Back in the mists of time (well before New Labour and centuries of less obvious oppression) the Dinnerstone, a rocky outcrop on Saddleworth Moor, hosted raucous Druid feasts.
The Uppermill restaurant that now bears its name (pictured) is an altogether sedater affair. It's on the site of the ill-fated Wild Berries. Unprepossessing on the outside, the flat frontage could conceal just another building society branch.
Inside it's much, much nicer. Gone is the clinical white of Wild Berries. In are comforting cream and deep plum walls featuring stencilled snatches of dialect poet Ammon Wrigley's verse, which segue into large colourful canvases highlighting a particular word.
Wrigley's ashes were scattered on the original Dinnerstone after his death in the 1940s. It had been his favourite spot. The challenge would have been to pen an entire review in Wrigleyesque doggerel, but what would be the reet rhyme for risotto and pancetta?
Both these vogueish items featured in an early Friday evening dinner, spent cosily gazing down on the loose-end, young rapscallions of Saddleworth being moved on along High Street. My companion, `Gandalf the Gourmet', and I and were ensconced at an upstairs window.
Dinnerstone is on two levels. The railed 'minstrel's gallery', stretching around four sides of the first floor is preferable. Centrepiece, dominating the atrium, is a huge chandelier. A sort of period mirrorball.
Immediate impressions were of a very sharp, welcoming staff working at full pelt but never losing their cool - even at the sight of Gandalf resplendent in flowing white robes with a rowanberry sash and wreath of myrtle crowning his grey pate.
Tempting option
Rebuffing the tempting option of garlic bread and crumbly Lancashire, since only Caerphilly will do for ancient sages, we went for a selection of delightfully springy breads with balsamic oil and hummus dips (£2.30) while we did the menu perusal thing.
The food on offer can obviously trace its lineage back to big brother The White Hart at Lydgate up the road, whose side project this is. But that's no bad thing. Head chef Paul Cookson cut his teeth there for the past eight years.
I enjoy the White Hart but it may be the victim of its own success at busy times - a hilltop pub grown too big for its breeches combining restaurant, bistro, hotel, wedding venue, sausage manufacturers in one tumultuous whole.
Dinnerstone is different, but the food is of a similar high calibre, as our starters proved. Both, at £7 apiece, were very White Hart in their make-up. My duck and crayfish salad, fish and fowl in a dressing incorporating the contrasting tastes and textures of smoked bacon and early broad beans was rich but very fresh.
Similarly, GG's seared king scallops with a crispy pancetta and garden pea puree vinaigrette providing the pork and chlorophyll whoosh. The scallops were, in truth, a mite flabby, like the Archdruid who wolfed them.
Rollercoaster
I'm on a crab risotto rollercoaster ride at the moment. A recent version at Mr Thomas's Chophouse was an unctuous meal in itself. The Dinnerstone doppelganger was more discreet, reet discreet, less crabby, perhaps overdrizzled (a bit like Saddleworth) with lemon and garlic oil, but it was topped by a just-grilled-right salmon fillet.
For £14, it was a delightful main for your slightly delicate reviewer - still recovering from a bout of system poisoning earlier in the week, a hazard of the trade.
GG's roast pork fillet (£16) was a pert mound of light meat rounds on rosti in a pool of tarragon jus that would have accompanied my salmon a treat. We shared a springlike portion of al dente broccoli in hollandaise that seemed entirely appropriate - as did an uncomplicated minerally, almondy Soave Classico Rocco Sveva (£23).
Puddings were strong. Chocolate and mandarin cheesecake hit the druidical spot. My wobbly mint pannecotta was another herby shot, matched by a fresh berry compote. Each cost £4 and completed our feeling of intense well-being.
From a range of designerish pizzas made in the `Dinnerstone pizza oven' (sic), we almost stumped up for a take-out cajun chicken, smoked bacon and garlic butter offering for the statue of old Ammon down the street.
Well giggly does rhyme with Wrigley.
Dinnerstone, 99-101 High Street, Uppermill, Saddleworth (01457 875544, dinnerstone.co.uk).
Tweet
